Not Fearless
by The Cocky Undead
Summary: An adventure in the rain, leaves both Grantaire and Enjolras bruised, wet, and sitting in a jail cell. Surprisingly, after the short amount of time spent together, they actually understand each other better than before.


**[Not Fearless]**

Grantaire peered out the window of the Musain. He leaned against the edge of the window, as he took a swig of his red wine.

It was pouring rain outside, which wasn't surprising because it was spring after all. Said rain was keeping everyone indoors, which explained why the café was practically empty.

Grantaire had the upstairs to himself, which he didn't mind all that much. Though, he wished he had Joly or someone else to drink with him. He always welcomed the company of his friends.

Grantaire pushed away from the window, and wandered back to his vacant table. He sat heavily in the chair, taking another gulp from his bottle before propping his chin on his hands.

He stared at the single candle that sat on the table in a pool of hot wax, mesmerized by the flame.

Grantaire sighed suddenly, almost blowing the candle out, as his thoughts turned to someone else who burned with a fiery passion: Enjolras.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. A frown hovered on his face.

He and Enjolras had a…complicated relationship. They never really saw eye to eye.

Grantaire always voiced his doubts about whatever Enjolras's topic for the day was. Usually, the wine was flowing and Grantaire's tongue was thick and heavy.

Enjolras would shoot a scathing look at the dark haired man. Sometimes he wouldn't even bother to counter Grantaire's argument, most of the time, however, he would easily tear down Grantaire's opinion with his quick tongue.

With Grantaire silenced, Enjolras would turn his back on the man, focusing his attention to the many speeches, rallies, and meetings that he had to prepare.

For the rest of the evening, Grantaire wouldn't even speak to Enjolras again, effectively keeping out of Enjolras's attention.

What Enjolras didn't know was that even when his focus was elsewhere, Grantaire's was fixed on him.

Grantaire watched in silent awe as Enjolras drew the students and citizens to him, using just his words. He would stand, too passionate to sit at the table, worked into a rage as he spoke out against the injustice that the people of France suffered.

To the rest of the students Enjolras was their leader, their chief, but to Grantaire he was more than that. To him, Enjolras was a god; Apollo reborn.

Grantaire didn't believe in the cause, he believed in Enjolras.

Grantaire sighed again, raking a hand through his curly mop of hair. His hair didn't stay pushed back; instead it flopped back against his forehead.

There was a sudden pounding of feet on the creaking stairs that led into the upper level. Grantaire sat up, brightening. Perhaps Joly or Feuilly had found their way to the café after all.

He swallowed his shock as Enjolras's golden head appeared.

Enjolras halted at the top of the staircase, his hair wet with rain. Little rivers ran down his face, soaking into his clothes. His purple coat looked almost black, drenched with water. The rain pooled at his feet within seconds of his arrival.

His piercing blue eyes flickered around the empty room, finally focusing on Grantaire, who was frozen to his chair.

"Are you the only one here?" Enjolras asked his voice loud in the silence.

Grantaire gave a mute nod.

Enjolras pursed his lips, but strode farther into the room. "I need your help."

Grantaire blinked, not trusting his ears.

Enjolras frowned when he received no answer. He eyed the almost empty bottle of wine that sat on table distastefully.

He didn't ask the obvious question of whether or not Grantaire had been drinking, instead he asked, "Are you sober enough to help me?"

Enjolras didn't say exactly what he needed help with, but the repeated question broke through Grantaire's haze and it didn't matter what Enjolras needed; Grantaire would help.

"Yes." Grantaire stood up, keeping his stance steady.

Enjolras gave him a hard look, but then said, "Good. Come with me."

Grantaire hurried after Enjolras, forgetting his jacket that hung over his chair.

Enjolras led the way through the warm, smoky café downstairs, not checking to see if Grantaire was following.

He paused at the doorway, staring out into the night. Enjolras looked over to Grantaire, who stopped next to him.

A half-smile quirked at Enjolras's lips as he considered the other man at his side, "I'm sorry for dragging you from your drink, but this is something I can't do alone."

Grantaire shrugged, but didn't say anything.

Together they stepped out into the rain and began to walk at a quick pace down the cobbled street.

Grantaire's clothes slowly began to soak up the water, his thin shirt sticking to him. He gave a sudden, violent shiver.

Enjolras shot him a look, frowning as he took in Grantaire's soaked form. "You forgot your jacket?" He asked. It was more of a statement than a question.

"It does not matter." Grantaire said, waving a hand before wrapping both arms around his torso.

Enjolras didn't reply, but a moment later Grantaire felt something soft and faintly damp placed over his shoulders.

He looked up in surprise, but he quickly realized that Enjolras had taken off his jacket and put it on Grantaire. The inside of the wet coat was surprisingly dry and warm, and without meaning to Grantaire gave a low sigh of relief.

He looked to Enjolras, who was briskly walking beside the other man in nothing but his vest and white shirt.

Grantaire felt a pang, and began to shrug off the jacket. "I can't take your jacket, Enjolras."

Enjolras gave him a quick glance. "Keep it on. I'm not cold." It looked like he was telling the truth. The water had quickly soaked into his white shirt and clung to his chest and arms. He looked as affected by the rain as a marble statue.

"Enjolras," Grantaire said, frowning. "I'm not taking your jacket. You'll catch a cold and Combeferre will be at my throat demanding to know why I stole your jacket."

A real smile flickered across Enjolras's lips, "I will deal with Combeferre. You look colder than me. Keep it." He voice was gentler this time.

Grantaire did as he was bid and eased his arms through Enjolras's purple coat, warmth seeping into him again.

Enjolras slowed, and Grantaire followed the other man's gaze. It was focused on a small family that sat, huddled outside one of the many buildings on the street. Their possessions were scattered around them, as if someone had thrown them out the window. The woman had three small children clinging to her skirts, while the man was attempting to gather their ruined items.

Enjolras came to a stop in front of the man. "I told you I would return with help." The man's dim eyes flickered to Grantaire for a moment, before he gave Enjolras a small nod.

"Thank you, monsieur."

Grantaire halted a few feet away from the scene. He could see what had happened in his mind already. The family probably hadn't been able to pay their rent for the month and had been kicked out. And, of course, Enjolras had probably been walking home from the university or somewhere else and seen the whole injustice. It was typical Enjolras; protecting those who couldn't protect themselves.

Grantaire tried and failed to keep the cynicism out of his face. What were they supposed to do to help this family?

Enjolras knelt in front of one of the small children, his knee sinking into a puddle of dirty rain water. "Monsieur," Enjolras said gently to the little boy, "Do you think that you could help me with something?"

The little boy looked up to his mother, who gave him a nod. He looked back at Enjolras and gave a tiny incline of his head.

"Would you permit me to carry you and your siblings to somewhere dry? It would not do for you all to catch colds from the rain."

The little boy didn't seem like he much liked the idea of being carried by a stranger.

"Please, monsieur," Enjolras said. He leaned his head closer to the little boy's and whispered conspiratorially, "I don't think that I can convince your sister and brother to come with me without your help."

The little boy straightened a little and finally spoke in a small voice, "You need _my_ help?"

Enjolras gave a firm nod. "Yes. Without you I fear that I would be lost."

"Alright." The boy said, starting to swell importantly. "Come, Claudia and Eugene." He tugged at their small hands, leading them to Enjolras.

Enjolras gave them wide smiles and held out his arms. With some hesitation, the two little ones climbed onto him.

"Grantaire," Enjolras said, looking to the other man. He nodded to the boy he had been talking to, clearly wanting Grantaire to pick him up.

Grantaire sighed, but did has he was bid.

Enjolras finally turned to the man and woman, who had been silent during Enjolras's talk with their son.

"If you would gather your things and follow me, I will find you somewhere to stay for the evening."

The man jerked a nod at the house. "What about our home? I swear we paid, monsieur, I know that we did."

Enjolras gave the apartment a dark look. "I will return and retrieve your money. Then I will find you better accommodations."

* * *

After they had deposited the family back to the café to dry and warm up, Enjolras and Grantaire returned back into the rain.

Enjolras gave Grantaire a quick sidelong look as they walked. He could see the doubt on the man's face, and he felt his heart sink.

He had hoped that with no one else around Grantaire would drop his disbelief, which seemed like a show he put on for the rest of the students. Clearly, it wasn't an act, which hurt Enjolras more than he could say. He had always hoped that Grantaire would come around to their cause. Grantaire was a smart, well-spoken man, who could make a difference if he just put his mind to it.

Enjolras had been delighted to meet another potential member to their cause when Bosset had introduced Grantaire to him. He had strode forward, hand outstretched, with a smile on his face. Grantaire had gripped his hand in his own, giving Enjolras a smirk.

"Bosset has told me that you're the man who is going to change the world."

Enjolras had released Grantaire's hand and taken a small step back. "He told you that?" His eyes had glanced to Bosset, who looked somewhat embarrassed. "I'm afraid that he is wrong on that account."

Surprise had flared in Grantaire's green eyes.

"I am not the one that shall change France. It is all of us." Enjolras had gestured around the room, which had gone silent at his words. "Every man and woman who believes in our cause and strives to help us better France is the change. A single man has the power to break the levee that releases the dam." He looked to Grantaire again. "I assure you, my friend, I am not the crack in the levee. I am merely the water that is straining against the dam, yearning to be free."

After that meeting, Enjolras had thought he wouldn't see Grantaire again, but the man had proven him wrong. He showed up to every meeting that Enjolras held at the Musain. Most times he was drunk and not coherent enough to participate in the meeting. But other times, he was sober enough to challenge Enjolras, who would eagerly hope this was his chance to change Grantaire's mind.

He was disappointed each time and after a while had given up hope that Grantaire would be anything other than a drunk and cynic.

Enjolras never knew why Grantaire didn't leave them for good after the first few times Enjolras had torn his arguments apart. He didn't know why Grantaire continued to come if he didn't believe in the cause.

Enjolras blinked water out of his eyes, coming back to the present. They had arrived at the apartment again.

The windows glowed with light, indicating that someone was inside.

"What are you going to do?" Grantaire asked. "He's not going to just let you in."

"You?" Enjolras questioned quirking an eyebrow at Grantaire. What had happened to 'us'?

Grantaire frowned and opened his mouth again. Enjolras waved a hand, stopping him.

"_I _will do what I must."

"Like breaking down his door?" Grantaire asked. "I'm sure that he will be more than willing to talk once you take his wooden door for your barricade."

Enjolras shot him a hard look, wondering where that eagerness from earlier had gone. He didn't bother to give a reply to Grantaire. Instead he marched up to the door, and pounded his fist against it.

After a few moments, the door inched open. Hard eyes glared out at the two wet men.

"What?"

"Monsieur, we have come to retrieve Monsieur Agen's money." Enjolras said bluntly. Behind him, he could see Grantaire smacking a hand against his face.

"Money?" The landlord said. "He didn't pay me any money."

"Liar." Enjolras said coolly.

The man's eyes widened and he shoved the door open, revealing his large mass. "You're calling me a liar, boy?"

"I am." Enjolras said, taking a small step back from the man.

"I'm warning you just once," The man snarled. "You apologize to me and then turn back 'round and leave. Understand?"

"Yes." Enjolras said. He could feel Grantaire's surprised look on his back. "I understand you perfectly."

"Good." The man said.

"But I'm afraid that I cannot." Enjolras continued. "You, Monsieur, are a liar and a thief and I will not leave."

The man took a menacing step forward, but Enjolras held his ground.

"Enjolras…" Grantaire warned from behind him.

The man and Enjolras locked gazes and for a moment neither made a move, then the man raised his fist and swung it at Enjolras.

Enjolras, who had been expecting the move, danced backwards ducking. "Please, monsieur, I do not wish to fight."

The man didn't reply. He advanced on Enjolras again, swinging his fist at Enjolras's blonde head.

Enjolras ducked again and finally retaliated. His clenched fist darted forward, smacking the other man's throat.

The man froze, choking as his air supply was suddenly interrupted. Enjolras took a step back, observing the other man.

"Take a breath." He said. "You're not dying." He turned to face Grantaire, who had a look of…something—awe? — on his face.

"Enjolras!" Grantaire's warning caused Enjolras to whip back around. But he was a moment too late. The man had recovered his breath and was livid. He sprang forward, tackling Enjolras to the dirty street.

The man fell heavily on top of Enjolras, causing Enjolras's breath to leave his body in a whoosh.

"How does it feel not to breath, eh?" The man hissed into Enjolras's ear as he pressed Enjolras's head into the cobblestones.

Enjolras didn't panic, though he wasn't receiving any air into his lungs. His head was beginning to buzz as he attempted to buck the man off.

Slowly, fear began to seep into Enjolras. Black spots danced in his vision and he knew that he was going to pass out soon.

Suddenly the weight was gone.

Enjolras rolled onto his back, his mouth gasping for air. He coughed and choked, trying to ease his burning lungs.

He scrambled to his feet, seeing that Grantaire had shoved the other man off and was currently beating him senseless.

"Grantaire." Enjolras tried to call, but his voice was gone.

He swallowed and ran forward, "R," He said, using the nickname he had heard the others call Grantaire. "Enough."

That seemed to do the trick and Grantaire snapped back into reality. He dropped his bloody hand back to his side and got to his feet. He gave Enjolras a look of fear.

Enjolras cocked his head to the side, not understanding the emotion. "The fight is won." He said gently. He leaned over the man, checking his pulse, which was normal. Other than an enormous headache, the man would be fine.

"Hey!" A new voice rang out. Both Enjolras and Grantaire looked to the source.

Three police officers stood a few feet away from the men. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The first one demanded.

"It was a misunderstanding." Enjolras began, but was cut off by the second officer.

"Wait. I know you." He strode forward and jabbed a finger at Enjolras. "He's that student always causing those riots. You know the one," He turned to his fellow officers. "He talks about change and equality."

Recognition dawned on the other two men and their gazes hardened.

"It looks like he's causing trouble once again."

"It was not me." Enjolras protested. "I was only doing a favor for a friend." He heard a faint snort from Grantaire, but ignored the other man.

The first officer marched forward and roughly grabbed Enjolras by his shoulders. "I don't give a damn who started this or what you were doing. We all saw you attacking this man." He gripped Enjolras's hands and dug out his metal cuffs. "It seems to me that you need to cool off in our holding cell. Right, boys?"

There were calls of agreement from the other two men.

"Wait a minute." Grantaire protested. "You can't do that. We were only doing what he said; a favor for a friend."

The police officer fixed Grantaire with a hard look. "Shut your mouth."

Grantaire glared back, "No."

The officer shrugged. "I believe this man is resisting arrest." For a moment, Grantaire was confused, but then when the officer smacked a hand across Enjolras's face did he understand.

Enjolras's jaw stung from the impact, but he straightened easily. Just in time to see Grantaire fling himself at the officer.

"Grantaire, stop!" Enjolras shouted uselessly.

Grantaire didn't hear or maybe he just didn't want to listen to Enjolras. It took the other two officers to pull Grantaire off and cuff him.

* * *

An hour later both Enjolras and Grantaire were thrown into the nearest holding cell. The cell was empty when they were shoved inside, which was a blessing because the cell was already small.

Enjolras led the way to the back of the cell, sitting at the rickety wooden bench that served as a cot. He pressed his back against the cold stones and pulled his knees up to his chest.

Grantaire hesitantly stood near the cell's gate, until Enjolras gave him a nod, motioning for Grantaire to join him.

He gingerly sat himself down next to Enjolras, close enough that their shoulders were touching.

For a moment they were both silent, Enjolras staring through the bars to the hall outside and Grantaire studying the cuffs of his borrowed coat.

"I think I've ruined your jacket." Grantaire suddenly said, breaking the silence.

Enjolras looked over, taking in the rain soaked and mud splattered jacket.

He shrugged. "It would have been worse if I had been wearing it."

Grantaire smirked a little. "That's true."

A moment later Enjolras spoke again. "Thank you." The words were quiet, but genuine.

Grantaire felt a warm glow spread through him; Enjolras had never thanked him for anything, not that he had ever given Enjolras a reason to.

"I couldn't let our fearless leader be suffocated by that man. Courfeyrac would never have let me hear the end of it."

Though it was meant to be a joke, Enjolras didn't laugh. He shook his head and said in such a quiet voice that Grantaire wasn't sure that he was meant to hear it. "I'm not fearless."

Grantaire frowned and was about to respond to Enjolras's words, but Enjolras spoke again, louder this time.

"He could have killed me." Enjolras said his voice serious. "I would have died if it wasn't for you." His blue eyes held Grantaire's green ones.

Grantaire swallowed, thinking about how Enjolras had jumped to the worst case scenario here, but he was grateful for Enjolras's sincerity.

He cleared his throat. "You should join Bossuet and me. We box occasionally." Grantaire said changing the subject rather abruptly. "Then you wouldn't need me or the rest of the boys to protect you."

Enjolras was already shaking his head. "I need all of you. I will always need all of you."

Grantaire let the words sink in, before he bumped Enjolras's shoulders with his own. "You take things too seriously. Trust me; you're not getting rid of any of us that easily."

They shared a low laugh and then fell into companionable silence.

Grantaire could hardly believe that he was sitting next to Enjolras and that they hadn't tried to argue or bite each other's head off. He thought maybe, just maybe, Enjolras might understand him better. That was all he really wanted; for Enjolras to understand him. It wasn't like Grantaire wanted to be a cynic or wanted to drink all the time. That was something he couldn't stop and it was something that Enjolras hadn't understood. Perhaps still didn't understand. He just hoped that maybe now Enjolras had accepted those traits of his, had accepted Grantaire for who he was.

Enjolras was happy that Grantaire was with him. It wasn't the first time that he had been thrown into jail and it wouldn't be the last, but it was easier when he had a friend with him. A friend. Enjolras realized that it was true. Grantaire was a friend. They may not get along all the time, or any of the time if he was being honest, but Grantaire was still his friend. He cared for Grantaire and he knew now that Grantaire cared for him too. Enjolras hoped that this friendship would last, because he knew that Grantaire wasn't going to stop drinking or making snarky comments whenever he breathed. He promised himself that he would try to keep this fledging friendship alive, no matter how Grantaire annoyed him. Enjolras threw a quick glance over to the other man, and smiled slightly.

Enjolras suddenly shivered and let out a loud sneeze. He wrapped his arms around his legs, curling himself into a tight ball.

"Damn." Grantaire said from beside him. Enjolras gave him a surprised look. "Combeferre is going to kill me; you're catching a cold."

Enjolras rolled his eyes, "I told you, I can deal with him. It's Joly that we should be worried about. He'll probably check my pulse and feel my forehead and declared that I'm dying."

Grantaire laughed. "He told me once that you were looking pale so we should expect you to be on your deathbed by the next week."

Enjolras shook his head, "I always look pale."

"Like a marble statue." Grantaire agreed.

Enjolras gave him a sidelong look, surprised at Grantaire's choice of words, but the other man's gaze was fixed on the stone floor a faraway look in his eyes.

Enjolras nudged Grantaire slightly as he shifted causing the other man to snap out of his reverie. He looked slightly embarrassed, for what Enjolras didn't know.

Grantaire sat up and shrugged out of Enjolras's purple jacket. "Here," He said, "Better warm up."

Enjolras was about to refuse, but Grantaire didn't give him a choice when he draped the coat over his knees.

Enjolras gave a nod in thanks and eased into the jacket. It was warm from Grantaire's body and caused him to shiver violently again. Slowly, his body began to warm up again and he was grateful for it.

The cell doors clanged as a key scraped against the lock.

Both Enjolras and Grantaire looked up.

Their jailer stood at the door, looking annoyed. "Up. You're getting out."

Grantaire frowned, not trusting the man. But Enjolras stood up and motioned for Grantaire to do the same.

"Thank you, monsieur." He said politely.

The young men followed the jailer as he led the way through the hall into the main area. He gave them a curt nod and practically shoved them out the door back into the street.

Grantaire stumbled out the door and opened his mouth to shout some choice words at the jailer, but Enjolras grabbed his arm, stopping him.

Enjolras shook his head warningly.

Grantaire bit his lip, but did as Apollo bid.

For a moment they stood in the empty street. "The rain's stopped." Grantaire suddenly observed, craning in neck as he stared at the now cloudless sky.

Enjolras followed Grantaire's gaze, taking in the beauty of the night.

"Why were we released so soon?" Grantaire asked abruptly bringing Enjolras back to Earth.

Enjolras started walking, feeling Grantaire fall into step beside him. "I assume Gavorche caught wind of our predicament and probably told Combeferre, who in turn probably paid the fine and had us released early."

Grantaire frowned, looking around the empty street. "Then where is he?"

"I'm here." Their friend's voice rang out suddenly causing both men to look up. They paused and waited as the medical student strode towards them, a stern expression on his face.

"What were you thinking?" He demanded as a greeting.

Enjolras shrugged, but didn't answer.

Combeferre tisked as he came to a stop in front of the other two. "Your face, Enjolras." He reached a hand forward and gently prodded his friend's face, which was a mess of small cuts from where his head had been shoved into the street. He also was sporting a faint bruise along his jaw from where the police officer has smacked him.

Enjolras winced as Combeferre's careful fingers brushed the cuts. Combeferre pulled his hand away from Enjolras's face moving both hands to his friend's shoulder. He moaned as his fingers touched the wet coat.

"Enjolras," He sighed, "You're going to catch a cold."

Enjolras shrugged again, clearly used to this type of treatment from his friend.

Combeferre shook his head, turning his gaze to Grantaire.

Grantaire could see the surprise in Combeferre's eyes that he had been the one to end up in jail with their leader. Combeferre seemed to push his surprise away easily and checked Grantaire quickly for injuries.

"Come on. Let's get back to our apartment. I can check you more thoroughly there. Both of you." Combeferre said, including Grantaire in his gaze.

Grantaire felt a small glow as he began to follow the other two students back to their shared apartment.

He listened as Enjolras spoke up in his defense, claiming that it was his duty to protect the weak.

Combeferre pointed out that he wouldn't be able to do anything if he was sick or in jail.

Enjolras protested saying he was as healthy as can be. The lie was evident as a shudder rippled through his lean body.

"Grantaire," Combeferre sighed, "Next time Enjolras comes to you, please, please make him stay put till the rest of us show up or make him wear his coat." Combeferre's keen, bespectacled eyes had noted Grantaire's dry shirt.

Enjolras coughed and tried to deny again that he hadn't been in any danger, bringing Combeferre's attention back to him.

Grantaire followed the two friends, six words echoing through his head, _'Next time Enjolras comes to you.' _Enjolras would ask _him _for help again.

A slow smile spread across his face and he caught up to the other boys.

"I tried, 'Ferre, but Apollo doesn't really listen to me."

Enjolras sighed in frustration, "Don't call me Apollo…"

Their voices echoed through the empty street, loud and playful, and hung in the air, even as they themselves disappeared from sight.

_Fin_

* * *

_A/N: So, this was written for my friend's birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SABRA!). Hopefully, she likes it! _

_Anyway. This is my first Les Mis fic, so I probably don't have the characters down. I honestly don't know a whole lot about any of them (what I do know is taken from other stories that I've read on here), but I'm planning on changing that. I've got the Brick and I'm working my way through it. _

_Both Enjolras and Grantaire are based off the movie versions (so Aaron Tveit and George Blagden). _


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